The Youthnage Experience 2: The Landing

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We landed so smoothly that Jack Calhoun, the pro wrestler asleep next to me, didn't even stir. It wasn't until the plane came to a stop at the jetway, and the little bell rang, that he opened his eyes. He stood up with the rest of the people in the plane and stepped into the aisle, reaching up for his carry-on. Then he turned his back to me, or should I say his ass. I was still sitting, and what a view I had. Big thick pro wrestler butt in tight black jeans. Glutes as thick and strong as a mule's. Jack Calhoun had a reputation for being on of the strongest men in pro wrestling, and I had seen him do strength stunts on tv, where he often pressed his opponents overhead for reps before beating them, but this close up view of his muscled backside was mesmerizing.

People started to disembark from the plane, and Jack followed, never looking back. I stayed in my seat for awhile, waiting for the crowd to thin. I had a couple hours to kill before my presentation downtown, so I was in no hurry. I got off the plane, headed through the gates and was heading toward the terminal when I heard a voice behind me. Close behind. A very deep voice. "Where the hell you goin, boy?"

It was Jack, and as he asked me that, he grabbed ahold of my elbow.

"I got a meeting to get to," I answered, tugging to free my arm.

"I think you've got other plans," he said, clamping down on my elbow like a vice. "You ever piss yourself in public, boy, cause I could make you, real easy." He squeezed tighter, and the pain was so intense, my knees almost buckled.

"Fuck, man," I gritted through my teeth. "Take it easy." We made our way outside, where there was a driver and a limo waiting for Jack.

"We're going for a little ride, so get in, before I have to redefine pain for you," he said.

"You and what fuckin' army?" I said. My mother didn't raise me to be stupid, but sometimes I couldn't avoid it.

Jack's face got all kinda dark, and my stomach knotted up for its trip to hell. He lifted me up by my belt and through me into the car. Fortunately, the driver had opened the back door, and I flew in, landing on the leather seat in the back with a thump. Jack crawled in next to me, and sort of hovered. "You got a smart-ass mouth, you little shit. I gotta teach you some manners."

"You got a smart-ass mouth, you little shit. I gotta teach you some manners," I said back, mocking him like a smart-ass little brother.

He grabbed me by the shoulders and slammed me up against the door. He put his face in mine and said, "You ever have every bone in your body broken, one at a time?" 

"Just last week," I said, glaring back at him. My heart was pounding out of my chest with fear, but I couldn't shut the hell up.

"You little son of a bitch," he said, bringing his body into mine, crushing his big wrestler leg into my groin. "I'll break you like an egg," he hissed in my ear. I grabbed two handfuls of his hair.

"Go ahead and pull it, boy, you can't hurt me." I pulled hard as I could, but couldn't budge his thick neck back at all. He smirked at me, grinding his hard leg into my crotch, my cock hard as rock against him.

"What's that, boy? You like this wrestler muscle, don't ya?" His thigh was thick and hard as a telephone pole between my legs. I rutted against it like a horny puppy. He smelled like a wrestler, or a prisoner, dangerous and powerful. His thickly muscled body was hard as steel. He thrust against me, his cock hard inside his jeans.

"Hurt me," I asked him.

"Boy, I'd kill you. I got ten times the strength of any other pro wrestler, I just hold back."

"Hurt me," I asked again. He took his fist and smashed it upward, punching a hole clear through the roof of the limo.

"Careful what you ask for," he said to me, and I came against his leg, shuddering against his intensely powerful body, holding him tight.

Just then the intercom in the limo came on. "We're at the hotel,sir," said the driver.

"OK," answered Jack. "Come on, boy, time to check in."

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